Softie
by ChelsieSouloftheAbbey
Summary: Can Charles manage to pull off a surprise for Elsie's birthday? Pure fluff, a birthday fic for the lovely Lady Aurelia Crawley! Possible companion piece for Music of the Heart and Surprise for a Friend. Cover art by the lovely brenna-louise!


**A/N: Just a little birthday ficlet for LadyAureliaCrawley!** **xx**

Charles hummed to himself as he headed back to the cottage. It was a lovely, sunny day – a rarity lately, he thought with a grunt – and he was determined to enjoy it. Elsie would be home in four hours, and he'd just finalized arrangements for the delivery of her birthday gift. He hoped that between now and then she wouldn't notice that the spare key was missing from its hiding spot. He'd have to be sure to clean that area very well so that she didn't feel the need to go poking around, dusting and wiping the area herself. Charles _did_ know that she had not a clue about what he'd decided to get for her, and the thought tickled him. It wasn't often that one could pull the wool over the eyes of Elsie Carson, and her husband had a particularly difficult time of that, given that she knew him so well.

He couldn't wait until next week – her first week of retirement. Today was a Thursday, her last day at the abbey would be Saturday, and her birthday was the Sunday after. He had the birthday plan all mapped out in his mind: breakfast in bed, church, and her gift to be dropped off by a neighbor while they were out so that it would be waiting to surprise her upon their return home.

 _Home_. Charles sighed with joy as he unlocked the door and entered the small but inviting kitchen. The builders had only recently finished their addition, and he was enjoying having a couple of weeks to get used to the place. He'd been staying in their rooms at Downton following his own retirement but had often felt he was in the way if he ventured into the house proper. The builders had finished three weeks ago, and Charles had arranged for their furniture to be moved in the day after. It hadn't been a moment too soon for Elsie, who had gladly accepted the inconveniences of rising earlier and walking to and from the abbey in order to have more privacy with her husband in _their own home_.

Charles spared a few moments to look around and appreciate all that Elsie had already done to make their cottage so warm and welcoming. He loved the lightness of the curtains she'd chosen for the kitchen, and ran his fingers over the gentle thistle pattern she'd painstakingly embroidered on the corners of the tablecloth, marveling at how only _she_ would have found fabric for the curtains that perfectly matched the color of the thistle blossoms. He had no idea when she'd even _done_ the tablecloth embroidery, now that he thought about it. _It must have been a very long time ago, indeed._ He put that thought in the back of his mind for the moment, but he would have to ask her about it later.

The entire house still smelled of the bread he'd managed to make early that morning. He was no proper cook (hadn't cooked _anything_ in a great many years, in fact) but his strong hands had lent themselves to kneading bread and, thanks to Elsie's patient instructions the first time he'd tried it, he'd managed quite a few stellar loaves in the weeks since they'd moved into the cottage. He was also getting better with stews and, to a lesser extent, the shortbread they loved so much. Charles was hardly a modern man, but he saw no need to sit at home idle the whole day long while his wife worked, only to have her come home for a late dinner that she'd have to prepare herself. He'd worked it out with Beryl that while Elsie was still spending her days at the abbey he'd prepare dinner every other night and, on the nights he did not, Beryl would send something home with Elsie. So far, so good.

But Charles wasn't satisfied to stick to stews and breads; therefore, as long as her schedule allowed, Beryl had him up to the house for cooking lessons on Thursday afternoons. He'd had three so far, the third one having been just a couple of hours ago. Charles knew the staff was entertained to no end watching him suffer under Beryl's strict instruction, and the day of his first lesson he'd noticed Elsie peeking in the doorway, watching him with _very_ amused eyes. He had sent her an exasperated smile, and she had laughed when she noticed his sheepish face (dotted with flour) and the flowery apron he had worn over his clothing. He remembered how he couldn't help but think of the time he'd brought Lady Grantham to the kitchen to spy on Lady Sybil and her cake-making attempt. The memory was a bittersweet one for him; he loved and missed Lady Sybil quite a bit, and he remembered feeling ashamed of himself when he'd seen the look of utter adoration on Lady Grantham's face. She claimed to have been happy to have witnessed it, but he knew he was trying to catch Mrs. Patmore out and he felt badly about it now. But no matter… _water under the bridge._

Overall, Charles Carson was a changed man. Marriage had made a _softie_ out of him, as his wife pointed out to him on numerous occasions… and he didn't mind one bit, it was something he'd even become _proud_ of. Once all buttoned-up and formal the whole day long, he now lived for simpler moments: watching Elsie as she drifted off to sleep, the peacefulness on her face making her seem somewhat fragile; heading out to the garden with her in the morning, sitting to have tea and watch the sun come up before he walked her to the abbey; sharing a glass of sherry in front of their own fire instead of one in another person's home.

And for this, her first birthday since they'd married, he'd be showing her just how much of a softie he was. He had heard numerous times – from his wife and just about anyone who knew them – about the _one thing_ she'd always wanted for their house. What she didn't know was that, despite several arguments during which he'd stated unequivocally that he would _never_ allow such a thing to enter their home, he'd been slowly and silently relenting. _Ha…she has NO idea!_ Rubbing his hands together gleefully, he headed to the study and grabbed his book, planning to spend a good hour reading in the garden before starting the rest of their dinner.

~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~

Saturday arrived at last, and Charles spent it cleaning every inch of their cottage. He couldn't wait for Elsie to come home. By the end of the afternoon the house was spotless, dinner was in the oven, and Charles was getting antsy. Finally, as the sun was setting, he headed out to pick Elsie up from her last day of work. He knew his wife was both relishing and dreading the thought of leaving her working days behind; she couldn't wait to spend her days at home with Charles, but she was afraid she'd become irritable with pent-up energy once she didn't have to spend fourteen hours a day overseeing half the staff of Downton. He had tried to assuage her fears, telling her that retirement would provide her the time to do other things she truly _wanted_ to do: volunteering at the hospital, gardening, probably organizing the church fair, visiting with Beryl on the cook's half-days, babysitting baby Brenna. He knew Elsie recognized that all he said was true, and he also knew from personal experience that, until she lived it first-hand, he could talk until he was blue in the face but it wouldn't change how she felt. That was fine with him – he intended to spend the rest of his lifetime making sure her retirement was a very happy one.

Charles entered the servants' hall door and was surprised to see it fairly empty. _Thank God._ He knew Elsie didn't want some big send-off, knew that she wouldn't be able to handle saying good-bye to everyone simultaneously, and it appeared that the staff had respected her wishes. He found Elsie in the housekeeper's sitting room, where he helped her with her coat and took up the small box of things she had only recently finished packing. He was quite proud of her that they managed to get outside of the walls of the abbey and several steps from the door before she broke down in his arms, sobbing softly against the fabric of his coat.

~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~

The next day, Elsie woke to find the sunlight already streaming in her windows. _Hmm._ She'd never slept past dawn (well, except for on their honeymoon, which was an _entirely_ different story…), and she was thrilled at the luxury of being allowed to awaken slowly, in her own lovely bed, in their own home. Rolling over, she noticed Charles sitting in the chair by the bed, looking at her with absolute adoration on his face.

"Happy Birthday, love," he said quietly, the corners of his eyes crinkling with his smile. He bent down and gave her a tender kiss, then waggled his eyebrows. "Be right back." He headed downstairs and returned swiftly with a tray, on which he'd placed a lovely breakfast and a hot pot of tea. "Welcome to retirement, my dear."

Her laugh twinkled throughout the entire cottage and she smiled, biting down on her bottom lip as she looked lovingly at her husband. "Thank you," she said. "I think I'm going to like this after all… lounging in bed, breakfast on a tray… yes, I could get used to this!"

"As could I," he replied, leaning over for a more lingering, much deeper kiss. "You'd best have something to eat though, or we'll be late to church."

Elsie pouted. "Well, then, since you're _rushing_ me, I intend to continue that kiss later on this afternoon, my dear." She narrowed her eyes at him in false annoyance, grabbed a piece of toast, and bit down on it forcefully, never taking her eyes off of his as she chewed. She was enjoying herself in this new relationship they now shared, and at times like these she often found herself wondering how she'd lived without it for so long. "But I do thank you for this lovely breakfast."

"You're welcome, love. And I'll do my best to accommodate you once we come home," he replied with a chuckle. "Now eat."

~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~E~C~

After church, Charles could barely contain his excitement. He'd rarely ever been able to surprise his wife, the last time having been when he proposed; most other days of the twenty-two years they'd known each other she'd kept him on his toes, and usually a step behind her at that. _Not this time!_

They greeted friends and chatted as they made their way outside, and then Charles held his elbow out to Elsie, indicating that they should start heading back.

"Ready?" he asked her, and she nodded and tucked her hand in his elbow. They walked home slowly, taking time to relish another beautiful day together.

Upon reaching the cottage, Elsie started to get suspicious. She realized he'd not asked her at all how she wanted to spend her birthday and, while she didn't need anything particularly special from him, it was odd. It was almost as if he were… _hiding something._

"Charles?" she asked cautiously.

"Mm-hmm?" he replied, looking at her innocently. "What is it?"

Elsie paused, unsure of herself now. She'd been positive he was plotting something, but now… "Nothing, dear," she replied, shaking her head. "Never mind."

 _A-ha! I've got her!_

When they arrived at the cottage, Charles reached to unlock the door. He then turned and looked at his wife, bending down to kiss her on the forehead, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

Elsie had been a little suspicious before, but now she was sure. _Something bloody well_ _ **is**_ _up!_ _Well…let him have his fun._ She had assumed he _must_ have something planned for her birthday, but she truly had no idea what it could be. She wondered if he'd made her a cake and snuck it somewhere, as they'd done for Beryl on her last birthday. But, no… she'd have certainly found it in the cottage before today; there weren't many places to hide a cake in their small kitchen. And she knew there would be no party, because she had truly not wanted one and she trusted that he'd taken her words to heart. _Oh, Charles,_ she thought, _that cottage had_ _ **better**_ _not be full of people!_

Charles opened the door slowly, stealing a look past Elsie as she headed through to enter the kitchen. He spied the corner of a basket resting on the floor in the parlour. _Oh good, it arrived!_

"What's that in the parlour, dear?" she asked, spying the basket with its big, blue ribbon on top. Her brow was furrowed as she was trying to figure out what on earth could be in what looked like a picnic basket, and Charles couldn't get over how adorable his wife looked. He only shrugged, his face expressionless as he helped her remove her coat.

Just then, the contents of the basket made an unmistakable sound. Gasping, she turned back to her husband with a smile, her beautiful eyes as wide as saucers. "Oh, Charles! You _didn't_!"

He just grinned, double-checking that the door was shut tightly as put her coat on the hook. "I'm sorry, darling? What is it that you suspect me of having done?"

"Oh, my wonderful man!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in a quick hug. "I do love you, you big softie!" She placed a peck on his lips and then she was gone.

Charles watched his wife practically run to the basket in the parlour. By the time he made it to the end of the kitchen she was opening the lid slowly…and extracting one very small, very black, kitten from the basket.

"Oh, isn't she just _precious?_ " Elsie kissed the kitten's head, tucking the little body under her chin. The kitten sniffed her neck, let her pet its head for a few minutes, then wound itself into a ball up and promptly fell asleep on her shoulder, just under the curl of her braided hair.

"Yes… and the kitten is somewhat cute as well."

"Oh, clever!" Elsie said, moving closer to give her husband a solid kiss, mindful of keeping her hand on the kitten's back so that it didn't fall.

"How did you know it was a girl? That must be from your farm days," he said, shaking his head in wonder.

Elsie nodded. "I'm going to name her Thunder."

"Thunder? Such a loud name for such a small creature," he said, eyeing it hesitantly. Charles had never liked cats and his wife's love of the things puzzled him greatly. He'd refused to allow one in the cottage, mice or no mice. But the more he thought about it, what harm could one cat do? He did remember them being ever so useful in the horse barns when he was a lad.

"Yes, Thunder… on account of all the disagreements we had about whether or not I would eventually _have_ a cat, and also on account of that big, booming voice you have when you're het up about something!" she grinned, a mischievous glint to her eye.

"You know I hate when we are in disagreement, love," he replied softly, caressing her cheek with the back of his fingers. "But keep her fur out of my dinners, won't you?" He looked at his wife's face, took in her happiness and the love in her eyes, and knew that it was worth all the fur and claw marks he'd be finding for goodness knows how long into the future.

"Happy Birthday, Els," he said quietly. "I admit, I _am_ happy. It's not often I can surprise you."

"Thank you, and you're right – you can't usually manage it. But there _is_ one consolation for me, you know," she said smugly.

"And that is…?"

Elsie chuckled, poking her husband's chest with her finger. " _You lose_."

Charles's laugh could be heard throughout the house, startling poor Thunder, who awoke and was immediately cradled in Elsie's soft, waiting arms…purring away in her new home.

 **The End**


End file.
